


The Beginning of Something Really Excellent

by Hammertimexx (orphan_account)



Series: Ain't Nobody Messin' With My Crew [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - GTA, Explosions, Fake AH Crew, Gangs, Gavin's Nonsense, Gen, Prison, Prison Escape, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 19:05:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2518565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Hammertimexx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You got out!"<br/>"Gavin?"<br/>"...We blew up a prison and the only one you mention is Gavin?"</p><p>-</p><p>Geoff thought he got the short end of the stick when he was left behind during a heist and taken to jail. Five men make him think otherwise when he wakes up to a hole in the wall of his cell and a dead cellmate.</p><p>(Written by: Hammer)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beginning of Something Really Excellent

**Author's Note:**

> So Hammer and I have gotten into this little game where we give each other Fake AH Crew prompts and write them for one another. This one is the first prompt I gave Hammer. ^u^  
> Enjoy!  
> -Time

Three days. Three days of hell and back. Of a shitty orange jumpsuit, sideways glares, and trying and failing to choke down the absolute crap food provided by the ever loving Los Santos Prison. 

Three days into a 5 year sentence, and Geoff Lazer Ramsey was about to give up on the hope of anything and everything. 

He'd gotten caught after being an underdog in a heist a little less than a week ago. For fucks sake, the fact that he'd even been caught was total bullshit. He more than suspected that it had been foul play, someone had turned his ass in to save their own, but still. He'd been the one ordered to plan that robbery, and it should have gone off without a fucking hitch. He even kept himself out of it, his job had been simple: He drove the truck carrying the three dudes away from the robbed bank, and they'd get away fine and dandy. 

The pay was good, it was a quick thing to make ten grand, and now he was about to get away free as a bird. 

It should have rang loud and clear that something had been up when he'd been picked by a well known group and asked to plan out a way to rob a fucking bank. The Professionals, well known, well respected, and fucking batshit. Robberies weren't usually even their thing, they did drug and weapon smuggling. He'd actually been stupid enough to hope that it was a test, or an initiation or something. That was the shit of dreams in Los Santos; it was the only way to get up in the ranks, and that was to work your way from the bottom. But apparently that wasn't enough of a warning that he was about to get fucked over completely and utterly. 

 It should have also been pretty noticeable that he was the only one on the team who didn't know the rest of the men within their little cuddle puddle of a team. The other three were talking between themselves way too much for comfort, but then again, what would he need to say? He was just playing cab driver, that was it. If they needed to adjust something in his plan, that was up to them. He'd just done it for the extra cash, and it was supposed to go off really easily. In and out. 

And yet when the guys with all the fucking loot left the bank through the back way instead of the conjoined roofs that Geoff had pointed out in the plan, he knew something was up. The original plan had been to escape off the roofings, run down to a hidden side alley where the car was parked, crawl down the fire escape, and get in. There was no way they would have been seen unless a helicopter was already flying overhead, which one wasn't.  When police swarmed the black SUV he was driving, Geoff let his forehead slam against the steering wheel, letting a loud, long honk emit through Los Santos while his 'crew' used the 'sudden capture' of their get-away driver as a distraction that keep the police at bay. 

He'd been sold out for assurance that they'd have a few extra seconds to get away on a different route than the one he had planned. 

A day in holding, a day spent on his case in court with the verdict being honest and obvious, and then a quick shower, a change of clothes, and a day of being stripped of any self respect. Tada, you had the current Ramsey at your fingertips, exhausted and ripe for the taking. 

 This is the main reason why he never should have even accepted this was because Geoff knew he was better than that. But in the crime world of Los Santos, you need to work your way from the bottom. You don't just get a crew overnight, and you definitely don't get a reputation with others that easily either. If he had to do shitty jobs until he could at least get one or two people on his side, so be it. 

 He had the capacity to be a good leader, he knew it. He could  _feel_ it, he knew he'd be successful if he ever got a team together. He just. . . knew. That heist would have been perfect, would have left little to no evidence, and yet somehow here he was, the only link the police had to a seemingly missing puzzle. 

 And yet the dream of becoming a leader seemed to have flown out the window as quickly as he'd flown into a cell, so there was no point thinking about it anymore. Five years from now, he'd start back from the bottom with a new target on his back, seeing as this was the first time he'd ever gotten caught.

 "Dude get your head out of your ass and move on," A voice behind him growled, causing Geoff to glance behind his shoulder. He was in the line to get the stuff they dared called 'food', and the bald, thick eyebrowed asshole behind him was wearing a stern expression with fists clenched around an empty tray was staring at the kid directly behind Geoff. When he was ignored, he kicked outwards, hitting the thin, wild haired man in front of him in the calves. 

 "Oi! Mind watching where you're flailing your gargantuan feet?" A heavy British accent came from the kicked inmate as he turned around, facing someone who was easily three times his size. His shoulders were squared, his tray still on the serving line, and Geoff raised his eyebrows; he was actually vaguely impressed. The kid had balls. 

 "What?" The bigger one growled, reaching his hand out to tangle it in the front of the thin man's prison jumper, and Geoff could see regret practically ooze off of him. 

 "Uhh," The Brit gave a nervous titter (So much for the bravery aspect), before there was an interruption, this time from in the eating hall. 

 "Get your hands off of him," A tired voice said, as if this wasn't the first nor last time he'd have to help out the brunet that was currently an inch off the ground. Glancing over, Geoff realized he wasn't the only one watching this scene unfold as other heads turned, looking at a man with wavy auburn hair and glasses. The arms that swung slightly at his sides while he walked were tattooed, and the expression he wore was annoyed. He took his time getting to the scene, and when he got there he surprised everyone (or at least Geoff) with slapping the British boy over the head, glaring at him. 

"Oi, Michael!" The man pleaded, only to have 'Michael' roll his eyes at him. 

  "Gavin, you fucking idiot, I was trying to eat," He mumbled, before turning to look at the guy holding his presumed friend up. "Hey, TweedleDumb, where's TweedleDee?"  

 "What'd you say?" The stranger tried to say in his most intimidating voice, and Geoff watched in amusement as the guy with the glasses just crossed his arms over his chest, looking him up and down once very obviously. 

 "Big, dumb, and apparently deaf. Don't speak much sign language, but I'll do my best to try and get my point across." Putting a fist in front of his mouth before clearing his throat, Michael rubbed his hands together as if to warm them up before they both lifted with middle fingers skyward, flipping their aggressor off. 

 Gavin hit the floor with a thud as the man reached out, trying to hit Michael and instead getting the air as Michael dodged him, his hands curling into fists before curling an upper cut to hit directly into his attackers forearm in a solid hit. 

 "Michael don't! You'll get extra time for bad behavior you fucking dunce!" Gavin seethed, shifting to get up from the floor as the guys arm shot back to be examined, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the bruising skin while Michael squared his stance, his hands in fists at his sides. Gavin scrambled to stand, standing next to Michael as the room went silent.  

There was no reason for Geoff to have cared. He should have gotten his food and just moved on, it was just a prison fight. The boys were somewhere in their early to mid twenties, they could handle themselves. They had worked as a team to kinda start all this shit, but for some reason that 'extra time' comment the British dipshit had said stuck. Geoff had been here for three fucking days and they were the worst of his life. And he was older than either of those boys, fuck knows how long they'd been stuck there. So when he saw a hand flying out to punch at Michael, he moved on instinct. 

His hands flipped and gripped the sides of his food tray, made of hard plastic, and he stepped forward, closing his eyes and swinging with everything he had.

The crack that rang out was accompanied by a surprised laugh from either Michael or Gavin, but the more distracting sound was the yell that came from the man in front of him before Geoff was met with a swift punch to the stomach, effectively knocking the air out of him completely. His eyes snapped open as he opened his mouth to get in a deep breath when his back hit the floor, the guy trying to get down to get a hit on him. And yet, even without a bit of air in his lungs to get oxygen to his head, Geoff tried to laugh because holy shit, the dudes nose was bleeding like a sieve. A miracle happened right before his eyes, however, as a three pairs of hands grabbed onto the mans shoulders, holding him back from pouncing on Geoff. 

Finally gasping when his lungs were able to suck any and all air back in, Geoff gave a few coughs, flipping the dude off with his left hand as his right arm curled around his abdomen, the throbbing prominent.

The other prisoner struggled at that, probably wanting to get back to Geoff to beat the shit out of him, but disappeared around the corner while being hauled away by three guards as the room came back to life, everyone moving past the incident near immediately. Rolling over to push himself up, Geoff was hauled up as well by a different guard. Right, he'd fucked up with bashing a strangers' face with a tray, huh? Looking around for a moment, he was met with the stunned faces of Michael and Gavin, both of whom seemed to be surprised because they knew what Geoff had just done for them. They'd both gotten off scot-free, obvious from the lack of either of them being taken away. "Walk faster in line," Geoff ordered them as he was pulled away with a slight smirk, and Michael's open mouth pulled up in one corner for a split second on what appeared to be amusement. 

As he was escorted down the hall, Geoff accidentally let out a laugh as he heard Gavin exclaim, "Bloody fucking hell, he just saved your arse! Looks like you don't get to play bodyguard anymore, Mich-", accompanied with the sound of another slap. 

 

-

 

Two days of solitary for fighting. Somehow, it was better than actual prison. At least he wasn't with his bunkmate, who hadn't spoken since he'd gotten there. Sleeping in the same room as the guy was hard, he didn't seem very fond of Geoff in the slightest. By the time they got him out of his singled out room, Geoff was told that he'd gotten an extra month on his sentence. The first stupid thought that rang through his head was,  _Hey, better me then them_. Which didn't make sense considering he knew nothing about those two fucking idiots, and yet he still felt like he should care. At least a little, come on, how did two boys like  _that_  end up in the Los Santos prison system? 

 It was a question that stuck with him for a surprisingly long time, aka until the next time he saw them a few days later. Going through the lunchline, he heard someone clear their throat next to him, causing him to glance over as he was handed his tray, filled with something vaguely comparable to greenbeans and some type of sandwich. The mop of auburn hair was a dead give away, causing him to slide his tray down to get his drink. "Hey," was the lame greeting he offered, and Michael took in stride. 

 "What the fuck was that about?" 

 "What?" His expression pinched as he looked over a bit more fully, and Michael actually looked borderline annoyed. 

 "You decide to take the fall for me? What kind of shit is that, do you want me to owe you something for that fucking stint?" 

 "You don't owe me dick," Geoff immediately scoffed, and watched as Michael's expression smoothed just a little as his eyebrows raised in surprise, "Look I stuck my nose where I shouldn't have, fine, I'll back the fuck off, but it looked like your friend wasn't too keen on you getting stuck here for any longer." 

 This time the younger man looked down at his tray, pulling it away from the serving line as he nodded for Geoff to follow, "I'm getting out in a few months, so's he. He doesn't want one of us to get stuck behind. Dumbass probably wouldn't last another hour outside this place without me, he's got a knack for pissing people off and is a lot less able to protect himself without someone with him or some metal on hand." 

 Trailing behind Michael as he walked over to a table that had two people at it, Geoff gave a small nod of agreement at that, "Yeah, saw that talent of pissing people off firsthand."

"You know you broke his nose, right?" Michael asked in reference to the brute they'd been fighting, sliding to sit down at the table as Geoff gave a small laugh. 

 "Nope, but I do know. Didn't realize the tray would be that good of a weapon," He shrugged, moving to take a sip of his drink and watching as Gavin looked up, nearly choking on his food while a hand flailed out to point at him. 

 "Yeah, yeah, it's the same dude, now swallow before you fucking asphyxiate," Michael ordered, rolling his eyes in a familiar way as he began to dig into his own food. Looking back up at Geoff, Michael stared at him for a moment while chewing a mouthful before swallowing and crossing his arms, leaning back, "So you mean to tell me you got stuck in two days of solitary because you didn't wanna see my ass get stuck here longer, all because  _this_  dude got upset about it?" Throwing a thumb in Gavin's direction, Michael actually looked interested. 

 "Oh this was the guy?" The stranger at the table asked, and glancing over Geoff was met with the sight of a kid who appeared to be the same age as both Michael and Gavin, but with a bit of stubble and black hair, along with black rimmed glasses. 

 "Yeah! Okay, this is Ray, and Ray, this is-" Gavin was now up and speaking, mouth free of canned vegetables, but could only blink a few times, realizing that he didn't even know who he was, "What's your name?" 

 "Geoff, Ramsey." 

 "No fucking way," Ray stated immediately, and Michael rolled his eyes. 

"He's kind of sarcastic all the damn time," he clarified, but Ray waved a hand, turning to look at Geoff seeing as they were sitting on the same side of the table. 

 "No seriously, you're the guy who organized that bank heist." 

That had Geoff's head snap up in a damn second, looking at Ray as the kid stared back at him. His voice came out near a whisper, "What?" 

 "Holy fucking shit, that was actually you," Ray clarified to himself, watching as Geoff gained an unamused expression before waving his hand, lowering his voice dramatically, "I mean, the men you were working with? The Professionals, right?" When he nodded, Ray gave a whoosh of air, "Our friend Jack was just telling us they pulled off a clean heist and jailed the poor dude who did it for insurance. Everyone's just calling you 'Ramsey', damn bro."

"You set up a heist for the Professionals?" Gavin asked incredulously, all of them keeping quiet.  

 "You got  _caught_  because of them?" Michael repeated in the same hushed and surprised tone. 

  Geoff began to clarify, pointing a finger at Michael as if accusing him, "I didn't get caught, that shit would have and should have gone off beautifully but the fuckers sold me out. Offered up,  _not_ caught."

 "Ray, what else did Jack say about this?" Michael asked, turning his attention away from the tattooed in front of him as Ray gave a shrug. 

"It was just what was going down recently, relax," Ray held up both of his hands in mock defense, "between his info from The Lost connections and mine through the Vagos, I only get bits and pieces." 

 "You're in with the Vagos?" Geoff questioned, and Ray gave a smirk.

 "I know, I'm the whitest Hispanic you'll ever see. Take a picture, frame it, show your friends." Winking once, he flicked at his food a little, "I'm falling out of it right now. Don't get to be in prison for two years and get back to any level of respect." Glancing at Geoff, he looked curious, "If you planned a robbery, you had to be high up." 

 "Pfft, fuck no. Wish I was, but not even close, I was a lacky that they used and tossed out." Turning back to his meal, Geoff suddenly felt his appetite leave him as he looked at the food again. 

 "Doesn't sound like it to me," Michael scoffed, and Gavin nodded. 

 "Yeah, could've fooled me with that. If your ruddy plan worked as well as people are saying it did, then maybe you were more respected than you think." 

 "Yeah, that's why he's in prison right now," Ray agreed sarcastically, "But no, apparently someone in the Vagos is vying to get you for themselves." 

 "What the fuck to you mean 'trying to get me', I'm stuck here for the next five years." It was then that he glanced back at two of his three table mates, remembering the news he'd gotten a few days ago and supplying an eye roll to emphasize his feelings about it, "And a month." 

 Gavin realized instantly, his face twisting into a bright smile as he elbowed his friend, "Aww hear that Michael? He took an extra month for us, that's a true leader right there." 

"Yeah, because you know all about true leaders, considering the one we work for is a piece of absolute shit," Michael huffed, taking a large bite of his sandwich as he flicked his hand at Gavin distractedly. "It's that fucker's fault that we're in here anyways. He should have posted bail, we were good at our jobs."

 "And just what was your job?" Geoff asked, his curiosity getting the better of him after days of wondering. 

 "Hit man," Michael said in a monotone voice as Gavin said the same thing in unison in an excited whisper.

  "He was a spectacular hired hand," Gavin bragged, even if they continued to keep their voices at a hushed whisper, "I was the driver and automobile expert. We got nabbed on a run and could have gotten out before they figured out our other offenses, but no one came to get us." 

 "Fifty thousand for bail each and they couldn't cough that up," The aurburn haired one sighed, shaking his head a little as he glanced over at Gavin momentarily before looking to Geoff, "Luckily we got the same sentence, it's been two and a half years for good behavior. Or, mostly good behavior, whatever." 

 Hit man? Driver? I shouldn't have been a surprise, but that didn't stop Geoff from looking at it. Glancing over at Ray, he asked, "What are you in for?" 

 "I was sniping on a job and got caught," He shrugged nonchalantly, loading up a pea on his spoon and vaulting it to hit Gavin right between the eyes, "They couldn't prove I was affiliated with anyone, and I hadn't shot anyone, so I got two years with good behavior." 

 As everyone took a bite of their food, Geoff could only shake his head. They all seemed so fucking innocent, how was this even possible? One of them was a hired hand, one was a damn car expert, and one was a sniper. Shifting in his seat, he was surprised that he held an easy conversation with all three of them after that point, even if it wasn't about their reasons for being admitted. Ray was funny, Gavin was ridiculous, and Michael was a little shit. By the time lunch was over, Geoff found himself not really wanting to leave. It was almost like a little taste of what life had been like before he'd gotten in. 

 

-

 

Over the next three months, Geoff knew the names and qualities of his friends down to a T. 

 Ray Narvaez Jr., supposed sniping expert and member of the Vagos. Just a kid too, but killer with a gun and made a lot of pot jokes for someone who admitted that he didn't even drink. 

Gavin Free, the vehicle expert. According to himself and even Michael, he could deconstruct a car and rebuild it from the ground up, yet the idiot tripped over his own feet if he wasn't focusing on it. He used to steal any vehicle he could get his hands on just to sell as extra pocket money, unless it was for a job. 

 Michael Jones, hired hand on anything. Said that he'd used a friends help to even highjack a tank once from one of the military bases, but nobody, even Gavin, believed him. He even claimed that he still had it on the outside. He put up with Gavin's shit while Ray actually enjoyed it, but that pretty much summed up their friendships with each other. 

 Surprisingly, Geoff also became friends with someone who wasn't even in prison. 

 Jack Pattillo. The main source of information and apparently, supplies. Ray had a 3DS hidden in his bunk and just finished Pokemon X all while taunting Gavin over it while Michael got new glasses every time his got broken before he could even see the prison optometrist. With Jack, Geoff even had a friend he'd never met, Ryan something. Haywood, if he remembered correctly. While he'd never met Ryan and just heard stories from the boys, Jack visited every few days, stopping to talk to all three men more than once. 

 When he'd first found out that Geoff was in the same prison as the guys, he'd gone to talk to him immediately, telling him what he knew about the turnout of the heist and others reactions to it. 

 When they'd talked, Jack had covered the receiver of the phone mostly, whispering as he did so, "People want to use you as a tactician."

 "Who in particular?" Geoff asked, eyes narrowing. 

 "Between the Family, Vagos and the Ballas?" Sucking in a sarcastic  breath through his teeth, Jack relaxed a bit in the chair, "Five years is a long wait, but you'll have people at the end of it waiting for you."  

"Wow, how lucky am I," Geoff responded sarcastically, bouncing his eyebrows once as he sighed, leaning on the counter in front of him a little, "I can get in with any gang and get fucked over again because I'd still be an 'insubordinate' to them."

 Jack chuckled at this, but for a moment Geoff could have sworn he could see a hint of something pass over his face as he looked away. 

 

-

 

Stepping over to their normal table, Geoff fiddled with the game in his pocket with his free hand as the other carried his mess tray, not even looking up as he began to speak, "Ray, I talked to Jack and got you the new Pokemon game, but you have to share with Gav if you-" 

 Setting his food down, he looked up and felt his chest go a bit cold as he looked up and was met with the sight of an empty table. He quickly tried to think as to why the boys were gone, and it struck like a bullet; They'd been released, hadn't they? They'd gone through their three months and all three of them had gotten out. 

 Suddenly eating was more of a task than an escape from that point on.

 

- 

 

_Who the fuck smashed my head with a rock?_  Was the first question that really came to mind about a month later when Geoff awoke to a positively blinding light on his eyes. For a moment, he wondered if maybe he'd just gotten drunk the night before and was facing the hangover, before remembering that where he was, they didn't even serve alcohol. It felt like sunlight was flooding his room with the scattering of feet down the halls, fleeting away from. . . something. Shifting a little, he winced heavily, realizing that his ears were ringing harshly. 

Putting his hand up to cover his eyes from the onslaught of light and another to touch his ear, he paused. "Wait," He mumbled groggily, squinting between his fingers. He was at an inner cell, meaning no windows anywhere near him. 

_How the fuck is there this much sunlight?_

Cracking an eye open and turning his face to where the warmth that was coming from the sunrays were, Geoff's mouth fell open a little.

He didn't have a cell wall. 

 Sliding out of bed, he stared at it with awe, the hole the size of a fucking house and not to mention very conveniently placed to rip his cell right open to the abandon edge of the city he was imprisoned in the name of. Glancing over, he could see that the bunk that housed his usually pissy roommate was completely buried under rubble, the man no where in sight.

 Part of Geoff knew he needed to run out, but another part was wondering if this was just a dream. The rest of him felt that he didn't fucking care it was. He wasn't about to look this in the mouth and shove it, he was going to accept whatever the fuck this even was. Pushing himself to stand and stumbling, he guessed that it was probably an explosion that caused the hole in front of him. That was, if the splitting head ache and deafening ringing was anything to go by. Geoff  walked slowly, trying to gain his bearings. Lifting his hand and going to the opening, he put his hand through the hole, letting out a relieved sigh. 

"Not an illusion then," He mumbled to himself when it went through where the rock should have been. Forty feet ahead of him, the fencing was torn down as well, seemingly by car or something bigger. His eyes squinted a little as he stepped out, following the markings. Suddenly getting the mental image of Michael, Geoff would have smiled if he wasn't so surprised and confused, "Are those fucking  _tank_  tracks?" 

One step. Three more. Soon enough when he looked behind him, the prison looked like a fucking doll house in size and the thing was down to minimal staff, all of which were scrambling around outside. In the distance, he heard a boom  before watching one of the cars in the parking lot explode seemingly from nowhere. So someone had created a diversion, then. Maybe they didn't even realize that his cell had been broken into, the hole was relatively small in comparison to the rest of the place. 

 He gave a chuckle as he looked back, wishing that he'd thought to grab different clothing, when something sounded to his right.

"You got out!" A voice practically squealed, and before he knew it Geoff was being slammed into from the side, knocking him from a standing position to a sprawled on as he let out a grunt of surprise. Lifting a hand to punch whoever it was, he faltered seeing as the voice was so familiar, startling him into sitting up. 

"Gavin?" 

"Don't forget the rest of us," Another voice feigned a pout, belonging to Ray, who was wearing a dark hoodie and of all things, a combat sniper draped across his back, secured by a strap across his front, "Damn Geoff, and I thought we had something special. I'm wounded, how am I gonna get over this without tons of Ben and Jerry's and an assful of Taylor Swift albums?" 

"We break you out of prison and the only one you mention is Gavin?" Sucking in a breath, Michael came into Geoff's view first from his peripheral, but then fully standing in front of him, wearing a grin and an assult rifle comfortably. "Sorry to smooth over your break up with Ray, but blowing up shit to get you out at least merits like, I don't know, an honorable mention of some shit." 

"You didn't blow up shit," A voice corrected, someone walking around from around the back of Geoff. Someone that sounded fairly familiar, if not a little off.

"Jack?" He tried to guess, but was instead met with a shaking head from all three men in front of him. 

"It's the voice, man," Ray tried to joke, but instead was brushed off. Next to him, he got a clear shot of the newcomer. Stubble, hair that seemed to border dirty blond or light  brown, with an expression that was toeing the line between smug and amused. 

Reaching out, he helped Geoff up while Michael pulled Gavin from the ground, while introducing himself, "Ryan Haywood, demolitions expert."

"So you're the guy who made my grand exit then?" Geoff asked, shaking his hand while Ryan just smiled. 

"You've got it Boss," He shook Geoff's hand in return before letting it drop. 

"Boss?" Geoff questioned. 

"Uhh, yeah?" Michael said, frowning, "You're the leader of our crew, that's what we call you."

"When did I become the leader of your crew, is the question I was trying to get across, genius."

"When we broke you out of prison," Ray rationalized, shrugging a little, "Which is still a work in progress, by the way. So, Boss, how do we get out of this mess? We've got a hidden tank full of Jack currently pissing off the entirety of the police force at the prison, more cops probably ready to chase us if we don't move soon, and the five of us are just standing on a hill." 

"You actually stole a fucking tank," He deadpanned at Michael, who just gave a grin. "Jesus dicks, this is where you decide to drag me in?" Looking between the people surrounding him, Geoff thought for a moment, surveying the situation mentally. They needed to get away, he needed to get new clothing, they needed to find a way to get Jack out of being a distraction, and they needed somewhere to lay low. "Alright," He settled, clasping his hands together while pressing them against his mouth momentarily, "First off, I'm getting out of this damn prison garb. Ray, give me your hoodie, I have on boxers, it's the best we can do until I can get some clothes. Next, Gavin, go get us a car, something inconspicuous, and something that can hold six people comfortably. Bring it back here."

Motioning at the two of them, Gavin gave a nod and sprinted off while Ray beatboxed some typical club music, stripping in time as Geoff stripped himself down to his boxers. Slipping on the jacket, he looked between everyone, "Next, Michael and Ray, go help Jack distract the police, AKA shoot from a different location for a moment just so Jack can get out from the tank safely." 

"How will we get away then?" Michael asked, and it was then that Geoff turned to Ryan. 

"How good of a demolitions expert are you, dude?" 

 

-

 

"Incoming!" An officer yelled, running and jumping as bullets rained down from a completely different different angle than the tank firing that he'd been covered from. The explosions had stopped, but now two unknown shooters were coming from the hillside about 300 feet away, hidden in foliage and impossible to spot. 

It was unanimously agreed among the officers that it would be far easier to take down two mystery shooters than it would be to take down an entire tank, so the moment they found their opening, their back up plan fell into play as they waited for back up from further in Los Santos. 

"Form ranks! Move in on the mark!" The Police Chief called out, the men shuffling to form flanks to move towards the two shooters as they stayed behind their cover. After another minute and 50 yards covered, the bullets suddenly stopped coming, leaving them in silence and suspense. 

With a lift of a hand and a clenched fist at the right moment, all the men stood in unison, expecting more bullets to be shot at them and be prevented by their vests. Instead, however, they heard a loud hissing noise for a moment before the tank, which had been strategically placed next to the prison to avoid a counter explosion, experienced some sort of implosion, the ground shaking under them as flames shot upwards from the hillside. Stopping his men, the Chief watched as smoke billowed out, hiding the hillside in its entirety as the tank went up in flames.

The fire department was a ten minute wait, backup only being another two minutes before arriving but unable to see through the smoke. By the time the flames were out safely, the area was clear, besides a slightly charred orange jumpsuit. 

 

-

 

"So, Boss, what's the first order of business?" Gavin asked in an excited tone, driving through Los Santos with Geoff in the passengers seat, the back seat full of four other chattering men and the horrid smell of burned material. 

"Pants," He decided, "After that, it's all trivial." 

 

**Author's Note:**

> No, the cellmate in question is not Big Dong, and Geoff has not yet been deemed "Sex Butt". I'll come up with a prompt that includes that someday, I promise!  
> Comments? Questions? Concerns? Message me at cyan-shenanigans.tumblr.com or Hammer at burnieplease.tumblr.com! Or just leave a comment here, 'cause that's always super cool too. ^^  
> -Time


End file.
